


Bound Alone

by TemplarWarden



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 07:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemplarWarden/pseuds/TemplarWarden
Summary: Branded a Reader and cast into the Downside for the crime of literacy. A young farmboy finds himself surrounded by friends, but lonely. With a righteous goal, but no hope. Freedom within his grasp, but surrendered to martyrdom.





	Bound Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story very much reflective on my personal playthrough of Pyre. With an intent on exploring the time between the rites. The journey of the Reader between the rites, more than the journey of the Nightwings.
> 
> Whether this is continued beyond this point is dependant mostly on my response. If I feel this story is worth sharing.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy.

I couldn't move. I could hardly breathe. I was slumped into the sand. I was tired, I was thirsty and I was dying. This cloak is all that kept the sun from my skin. Ironic, the symbol of my crime, the symbol of a reader and writer. Here it kept me safe from the elements. 

I’m glad I took it with me on my day long trip across these bare wastes. Even after it was waterlogged and weighed me down as I pulled myself from the foot to the Lu Sclorian. I had wondered if those who didn't have my luck, who couldn't swim, had died in the first minutes of their exile.

Now? Now I would chuckle to myself if I could. My throat was dry, the last sip of water I had was days ago, at the pool. Exile, ha! This was a death sentence disguised as mercy. I'm going to die here, on my knees in the shade of these cliffs. Just the same as those at the pool. 

Then I hear the clunking and squeaking. Wood? I can't tell. But I look up. At first the vision is hazy. I bleary start to figure the shape. A wagon? Yes, it looks and sounds like one. I squint to make sure.Maybe I’m hallucinating. I wait. It's not like I could do move. The red, janky thing comes to a halt. I let myself hope this is real, this is rescue. Maybe I’m not alone. 

Opening my chapped lips brings out nothing more than a croak. Dry and hapless. The wagon has stopped now, I hear footsteps of wood. There are people coming out, I can't tell until the first arrives in my view. My hope dies in like my voice. Some looming creature, covered in long red and blue robes. Strangely elegant. The face stood out the most to me. Bone white, black, empty eyes and horned. As if it's some sort of monster coming to claim my forsaken soul.

She speaks, voice booming and echoing.  
“Hm. Another piece of filth expelled from the Commonwealth.”

I open my mouth to argue, or maybe to agree with this demon. Nothing comes out of course. Even if I could I don't know what I would say. I can't think straight.

“See, right on schedule! What’d I tell you?”

I can see two others of less intimidating shape and size approach. One of them the one that spoke, excitedly. It too bears a bone face. With sharp lines like a hunting bird. Scowling even. Just another demon, someone corrupted by the Downside. Coming for me. Bounding forward on all fours, getting close to peer at me with empty eyes.

“You told us we would find someone alive.” The large one speaks again, their attentions turn to each other. The third strolling forwards quietly, where I can’t make out their features. Yet I can see the bone white. 

“Someday! I said we’d find someone alive someday. Just not today I guess, but don't be glum! You know I see you frowning underneath that mask.”

I want to choke out a laugh. I’m not dead yet. They still have to finish the job. Demons or masks, it doesn't matter to me. Then the last one steps closer. Where I can see him. The tall bone… Mask, looks down at me. It seems disproving. Suiting I figure, with his next words. 

“Looks like he’s breathing.”

“It seems he still is. Them stand aside. I shall send him to a better place.”

“He’s a he? Can you people just tell?” 

The hunter mask peers closer at me, looking beneath my hood. I can catch a glimpse of actual eyes. I want to push him away. Or to laugh at the casual way with how they discuss my life and death. All that comes out is a dry wisp of breath. The man carries on as if I am not here.

“Hang on. The markings on his rags. I think he’s one of them.”

“But look at him. He is beyond our help, and we are beyond his.”

Yes! Hurry up and finish it!

“Broken, shaken, starving, probably diseased… Yeah, good luck with that there, chum! See you back at the wagon.” 

“Indeed. The day grows dim. You have at best an hour.”

An hour. What? I barely pay attention to the man as the other two leave me. Some part of me that held on to hope sinks, shrivels. He speaks again though and I struggle to refocus on him. It takes a moment to realise he has no mask anymore. 

He’s looks barely older than me. A young man with the shadow of a beard and jagged red hair. He's crouched down next to me, a smile on his face as he speaks.

“Hello, my friend. Don't care who you are or what you did, none of that matters anymore. All of us, we’re equal nothings here.” Perhaps it is the way the smile sits so naturally on his face or the softness of his voice outside the mask. I am simply soothed. Even with the harshness of the sands around us. He cradles me up slightly, resting me against his chest like a child. I don't even try to struggle. A canteen is set to my lips. “Here, drink.”

I struggle to gulp down the trickle of blessed waters he pours between my lips. With my throat less parched, I try to speak but still I cannot. He lowers his canteen. I let out a harsh croak of complaint. He simply smiles, as if he understands. 

“Here, eat. Can't live off water.” He feeds me… something. Pressing it into my lips, it’s crunchy and dry. Tasteless too, but I really don’t care. Its food. He washes the morsel down with more trickling water. So he repeats for some time, until I finally gather the strength to reach for the canteen myself.

“There. Turns out you’re tougher than you look.” He comments with a grin. I try to glare at him, savior he may be. He should try walking for days in the sands. His eyes crinkle more and I realize he probably knows exactly what I’ve been through. So I give him a half hearted grin of my own. He slips an arm under mine, trying to help me to my feet. I shakily swing my arm over his shoulder as he hauls me up. Clearly stronger than he looks under those robes. 

“‘han’ yo’” I manage to croak out.

“Don’t need to talk. Wait until you're recovered. Name's Hedwyn's. Now come on.” I stumble my way to the cart. With this man’s encouragement. Yet I barely have the strength to keep my head up as he leads me up some steps, inside. “Welcome to our blackwagon.”

It was dark. Little of the setting sun reached through the windows. However it was wonderful cool compared to the heat of the outside. A dry sigh leaves my lips. Although my relief doesn't last long. The cur and the other demon wait for me here. Stealing my attention when Hedwyn announces our presence.

Then I see the book. Past the great woman, set on a makeshift lectern. I gasp at the sight. Yet have no time to appreciate the unburnt literature. The woman speaks, responding to Hedwyn. Then she turns to me and removes her mask. 

I’m anxious. Who exactly is the woman with horns beneath that mask? Truly a demon, as the stories go.

“You may call me Jodariel.”

It is her eyes I notice first. Wonderfully startling. Flat orbs of pale blue set against white. She stares down at me and I stare back. Then I notice the horns. How could I have missed them? They weren't just part of the mask. They are black, curling outwards and forwards. Terrifying and stately. Framing the white-blond braid and Jodariel’s pale skin. The long, flat nose and sharp, downturned lips make her feel grounded. A woman of work and strength. As if the fact she was towering several heads above me didn't give that impression.

“You may ugh-”

The scuffling of the the third of the three draws our attention away from each other. I could only hope that she wasn't simply judging me. Jodariel reaches over with her great hands to help to the cur. He was pawing at his mask. With surprisingly delicacy the horned woman pulls his mask away. The white furred cur shakes his head wildly.

“You may regard me by the name of Rukey Greentail.”

I have to stare again for a moment. Rukey has a magnificently groomed moustache. A wide, boisterous filled grin and a gold tooth. Different from both Jodariel’s flat stare or Hedwyn’s gentle smile. I could help but give a cracked smile back, relaxing more into the Nomad’s shoulder. My previous fear dissipated, at least mostly, by their friendly attitudes. Then Jodariel’s weightful voice speaks up. She is speaking to Hedwyn but she clearly glances towards me.

“Can he do it?”

“I hope so... I haven’t asked him yet.”

I shift myself away from Hedwyn again. Trying to support myself against the creaking wooden walls of the cart. Watching my rescuers with a little frustration as they once again talk around me. 

“What?! Then what are we waiting for?” Rukey who bounded forward, grabbing my attention with his energy. “Heya chum! Nice meeting you and all but tell me something, you know how to read or what?”

I flinch a little at his suddenly approach. Memories of the my trail fresh on my mind. I react the same now as I did then, standing proud, head held high. Not a smart idea. I feel a little light headed. It took a moment for me to regain my equilibrium. The three of them are all looking to me. 

I nod, licking my lips to speak. “Yea’ I ‘m.“ I struggle not to flinch and stumble when the cur jumps for joy with a happy whoop. 

“Well then, glory days! Because it just so happens my associates and I, we got ourselves some nice material here for someone just like you.”

“Reader. You still live thanks to us. We ask for something modest in exchange. Tell us what it says.”

“Sorry to put you on the spot like this, my friend.”

I’m little taken aback but one look at the book and I wave away Hedwyn's apologizes. Reading will never be an inconvenience to me. Especially not with the chance to delve into something new. This book and the others like it is different to the texts from above. They look old, bound in something different to the makeshift skins and leather from above. There is a star mounted in at center of the cover. A reader’s star.

I take shaky but eager steps towards the book. Stroking a hand across the strange material. Reverently I suppose, but I waste little time opening to the first page. I trail a finger over the letterson the black parchment. Mouthing out the words as I read. Drinking it all in. My fatigue and aches seem to fall away as even as I complete the first page. This was written by the scribes themselves! For me, for someone who could read. Instructions for freedom! I let out a breath and had to lean against the book’s stand to stay upright. My vision swimming a lit. I could go home! I could see my sister! My mother and father! My… my books were gone. Burned and even if I went back...

“Well, friend? What does it say…?”

Hedwyn. I try to look at him but the walls tilt and the ceiling rushes down towards me. Is that Jodariel? What?

****

I wake slowly, dwelling on the dream I just left behind. Expect it wasn't a dream. It was real. Just as the book told me. As the Voice told me. The rites are real.

“Reader, you're awake.”

I tilt my head to look at the voice. This is certainly not where I passed out in the dark, candle lit wagon. A lantern sits on a low table. Casting yellow light into a spacious room with, a ladder at the leading up to another bright room. A pair of bunks against the opposite walls. I’m lying on one of them as well I guess. It's not hard wood against my back. 

A shadow moves in front of the light. Jodariel. The woman sits on a chair, which remarkably is sized to suit her. She is watching me, calmly. She takes up such a presence here, even if this part of the cart is remarkably spacious. Yet, I don't feel afraid of her, not now. Something about those eyes and her expression is reassuring. Even though a tall, horned demon woman watching me is not the most relaxing of situations.

“You should eat. You will need your strength.” She picks up a bowl sitting on a low table next to her. Handing it to me. I shuffle to sit up. My body aches, but it responds.

“Ah, thank you.” I respond. Damn, my voice sounds scratchy and weak. At least I can form words. The stew on the other hand, is a dark green gunk. At least it doesn't smell as bad as it looks. 

“The Downside is not an easy place to live. We will be traveling tomorrow. And there are still many questions you need to answer.”

I pause, looking up. I think she figured I needed a reason to eat. “Ah yeah. I-i mean you want me to tell you about what the book says about the rites, right?” I crack a half-hearted grin at my poor wording. She nods in response, but doesn't smile. Going back to doing her own thing as I eat. I finish off the stew I was quickly. I was quite famished. It didn't taste as bad as it looked either.

“Reader, we all want to know. Can you stand?”

“Ah, yes.” I sound more confident then I feel. Or maybe not, Jodariel gives me a look. Although she stands anyway. I give standing a try myself, bracing myself on the wall next to the bunk. I sway a little but I’m stilled by a large hand catching me.

A little embarrassed stumbling in front of this woman I mutter my thanks. I take a tentative step and her hand drops away without a word. I follow her as she ducks through into the room from before.

I finally get time to look around the place, while lucid. Dark as it may be. Dust, hay and cobwebs scattered. Like a storage barn. There were creatures hanging and sitting around the cart. Red and blue with wings and horns. Chirping and squeaking among themselves. I step closer to the Book of Rites, set back where it was. Laying a reassuring hand on its strange binding. Well, they were the same size and had wings. I spot the man next, even more still than the lethargic creatures are. He’s clothed in white, a dusty white. Clutching a lute to himself. His face concealed by a broad hat. Sleeping? Dead? He looks like he is just as untouched as the room. Even the book doesn't reassure me in this place.

“Don't step on the rug.” Jodariel startles me more and I almost snatch up the book. Intent on hiding it. Habits die hard. They didn't save my books in the end.

I glance down, realising I have stepped on a fur rug. Of dark reds and blues. I step off with an apology and Jodi sweeps up the rug with a flurry of hay. Giving me a better view of the metal sigil set into the floor or the wagon. Just the same as the one in the rite. My attention was snapped away as the creatures around bustle and squeak. Obviously at to movement. With the rug bundled under an arm she steps out of the wagon. I clutch the book it to my chest with my free arm and hurry out after her. 

We weren't in the desert anymore, even if it was still warm. There was scrub beneath my feet and starlight showed plains instead of dunes. Even further I could make out jagged cliffs of rock, the ones I reached before? Maybe.

“It is good to see you up, my friend.” Hedwyn is out here as well. Turned towards me from where he sitting beneath some sort of awning attached to the cart. Before him a pot set over a fire. Cooking the green stew I already ate. 

“Yeah! You had us a little worried there. Though you weren't going to make it. We would probably have to go looking again and all.” I had to stare at the cur for a moment as he casually talked about my dying. As casual as slurped the stew out of his own bowl.

“He needed rest. He was not going to die.” Jodariel responds as she approaches the group. I notice the rug thrown over a post, I’m not sure why. Maybe because I stepped on it.

“Yeah? How could you be so sure. You saw him when we found him. Didn't look so good to me, then he went and keeled over.”

“So did we.”

“Well, we woke up. He didn't, got me all sorts of worried I tell you.”

My head was looking between the two as they talked about me as if I wasn't even here. My frustration probably is showing. I catch Hedwyn smiling at me, yes my frustration was certainly showing.

“Come friend, sit with us. You are not a stranger anymore, Reader. Though perhaps you can tell us about yourself.”

Jodariel and Rukey fall silent and turn to me. The cur smiling his toothy grin. 

“Yeah chum! You have a name? You're one of us now. That is if you can talk now. We can wait if you need.”

I step forward uncertainly and settle down cross-legged across from all of them. Settling the book on my knees. Rukey watches me. The woman of the three gives me a affirming nod, then takes a bowl Hedwyn handed her. 

“Uhh…” I wet my lips again, talking is still a little rough. “Joyn, my name is Joyn.“ I put forward a small smug smile, a little emboldened. “And I don't really appreciate people talking about me as if I’m not here.”

“Eh chum! We didn't mean anything by it. That is just how it is around here with us. Of course you have my sincerest apologies.” Rukey seemed to panic, looking around to the others for help. As if wanting to avoid missteps. He trusted them to cope with his shortcomings, his over eagerness and pride.

I stare. What was that? How did I figure that out. I’m so off put by that moment of insight I almost miss Jodariel speaking. Her deep voice almost… Amused?

“I apologize as well.” For once I notice the accent, similar to Hedwyn's. Northern from what little experience I had. None of the three were wearing their raiments and I caught sight of the bronze crest on both Hedwyn's and Jodariel’s chests. Not the mention the metal breastplate the giant was wearing. Northern certainly, from the Bloodboarder. The young man turns to me as well.

“Do not take it personally, my friend. We are used to just the three of us. It may take some time but I think you will fit in fine.” He smiles at me and I find something doubtful. Not him, he’s genuine in his intentions. I shift uncomfortably. The weight of the book of rites in my lap, a welcome distraction. I open it with a comforting rustle of parchment.

“Reader, won't you finish eating?” Jodariel jolts me out of the moment of comfort, I send a little frown her way. Her eyes stare at me her lips a flat line looking grim. Though she’s annoyed about, it's not my dislike of her. 

“You said you-” I clear my throat again, it was getting rough but I still felt a little too out of place to ask for water now. “You said you wanted answers. Why not start now?”

“Sounds swell chum! So what the book say? That Voice told us it we had a way out.”

Ah, The Voice, yes. Whoever, or whatever it was. I didn't like it. For espousing freedom it was certainly judgemental as unpleasant. I had the faint feeling of having heard it before. At the time I didn't think much of it, my mind had joined with the three of them? I felt and heard Hedwyn's faith in me. Regardless of the truth of the matter, The Voice’s or Hedwyn’s. I was should help. After all, I was the only one who could read. 

I smile a little at Ruky. “You do, I don't know exactly how. Through more of these rites I guess.”

I settle to read out the first page of the book, or at least most of it. The first few sentences I felt were for me alone. I was the one that could read after all. Yet I outline the instructions given, reading from the book itself. Smiling while I do so.

Last time I didn't get the chance to truly examine the diagram of the stars. Eight of them, each coloured differently and forming the same symbol on the front of the binding. I turn the page over, eager to learn more.

“So now we just follow the stars, or what?” Rukey speaks up. I jolt, realising I had gotten a little caught up. The three of them are again looking at me expectantly. I fight the urge to shrink under their gaze. I was a Reader, my literacy had value now. I was more than a farm boy now. 

“Yes. Seek the nearest longitude beneath the brightest of the eight as they align as shown.” I quote again from the book. “There is a diagram as well. Here.” I turn the book around to show the cur.

“Hmm.” He hums, in a tone that makes it clear he doesn't get it as he peers at the drawn stars. Drawing a light laugh from Hedwyn.

“Supposedly.” Jodariel’s booming voice cuts in, commanding. I look to see her looking at the book from her position. Then her eyes set on me. Gone was the calm assurance from earlier, now the woman brooks no argument. She stands, towering. “Reader! Come, let us regard the night.”

So much for bring the Reader. I follow her out from under the awning, beneath the open stars and away from the light. I have to hurry because her strides are so long. Suddenly in the open with her I feel so small again. When she stops I scamper up next her. Scamper, like some pathetic pet. 

“Now, show us. Before the stars fade. Where shall the rites commence.” She orders again, although her eyes is on the sky. I look askance at her but gaze up to the tapestry above myself.

My eyes first fall on a different star, my own. Geminian, of the First Empress. It shines bright, just as all the others. Beautiful, clear and no different from when I dwelt in the Commonwealth. It's not what I’m looking for though. It is swift enough to find what I was looking for though. There are new stars blazing bright, as clear as could be. A golden one, greater than the others, beckoned to me. It's light reaching out to smother the lesser motes around. Damn, if only I could write that down.

I had no doubts, that was our destination. Although I couldn't say I had much of a clue how to navigate by stars. That wasn't something I had read about yet. I point instead, Jodariel seems to know a little more than me. “There, that's the star, above the ridge.”

She makes a thoughtful sound. More like a rumble “Hm, The South Star, two hundred leagues due east. The Ridge of Gol.”

The star of Gol, that makes sense. Two Hundred leagues though. Walking that distance would take over a week. I glance up the stars again, the Scribes’ stars arrayed above me, then back to the book in my hands. Opened to the diagram, the silver lines glimmering clearly even in the little light. I am no astrologer, yet I know that we do not have that time until the stars align.

“Can we make it in time? We uhh, only have a few days.”

“Pray we make good use of our remaining time.” She fixes me with a look. “Reader. Do not deceive us.” I stare back up a her, intimidating, frightening. Yet that wasn't a threat as I first thought, I can read that in her. It was a request, a plea almost. She wanted to trust me. She turns to head back to the wagon, I blink. 

“So, uh the wagon can make it then?”

“If all goes well.”

I watch her walk back to the others, by herself. The Book of a Rites held to my chest. She speaks to the others who glance in my direction. I can't help but feel emboldened by the trust and hope in their smiles. Except, what Jodariel said to me, everything that has happened in this last evening. I can feel this new weight on my shoulders. The Readers cloak, my pride, these expectations. Damn, I’ve been thrown into this and I don't really know what to do. What if I fail?

I turn away from the three by the wagon. Look up to The South Star, burning above the ridge. Maybe it's as The Voice said, I am not ready to get mixed up in this so soon after my exile. Maybe… I think back to Jodariel again. She wants to hope, to trust, to pray. Hedwyn with his kind smile. His faithful vow during our dream. Rukey. Though I don't know much about the cur, he is boisterous, eager and committed. 

My doubts don't matter, I can't let them down. Maybe I should pray.


End file.
